Something In The Air
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: Merlin stopped, however, just in front of Arthur, his breath flitting across his waiting, wanting, disappointed lips. He let out a breath, shook his head. "I'm sorry…" Merlin mumbled, not moving away from Arthur. "I shouldn't—we shouldn't—I'm sure you don't—"


**So this was sort of inspired by an RP thread I've got going on, and sort of inspired by a song called "Kiss Me Slowly" by Parachute. Like, have I mentioned before how much I love Parachute? Because I love them _a lot_, and you should all go listen to this song if you've never heard it before, because it's a _really_ great song.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Merlin or "Kiss Me Slowly", which, yeah, I know, _shocking,_ right? And holy _fucktruck_ was that a lot of commas.

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_Something In The Air_

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Arthur genuinely wasn't sure what it was about that night—what it was about the flicker of the candle light, the way the shadows were dancing across the walls as Merlin helped him out of his armor in a heavy silence that neither of them questioned—but there was just… _something_ about it all.

There was something about the way Merlin's hands were fluttering over his skin as he helped him out of his chainmail and into his nightclothes; something about the way his breath was hot on Arthur's neck when he ducked down for some reason or another; something about the way his gaze was intense and calm when it met Arthur's and everything else in the world just… melted away.

There was just… something in the air that night, Arthur supposed. Something that made his breath hitch when Merlin smiled softly at him, or when their eyes caught on one another. Something that made his pulse quicken when Merlin's fingers lingered on him as soon as he finished dressing him. Something that made Arthur keep his eyes on Merlin for as long as he could, on the curve of his lips, the twitch of his fingers—there was just… _something_ about that night, and Arthur—oh, Arthur never wanted it to end.

He could feel it in his blood, in his bones, a fluttering, light, nervous sort of feeling that almost said something _big_ was about to happen, and his gut clenched in anticipation because of it. Whatever might happen that night—_if anything_; he might have just… been imagining things, he supposed, though he hoped…—he was…

"Good night, sire." Merlin said suddenly, his voice low and heavy as he took a step back from Arthur, eyes hooded against the dim lighting of the room, his gaze lingering on Arthur's for a long, still moment.

Arthur's lips parted, a ghostly whisper of, "Good night, Merlin," barely escaping them, so transfixed was he by Merlin's eyes, by the feeling lingering about the room.

Merlin smiled softly at him, something lighting up and then quickly dimming just behind his eyes as he turned around slowly, and made his way towards the door, Arthur watching him all the while. If Merlin left, the mood—calming and nervous and giddy and _different_—Arthur was sure, would dissipate, and be gone forever, and he wasn't quite sure if he wanted this moment to slip by so unnoticed…

As Merlin's hand hit the door, Arthur took in a sharp, steadying breath and crossed the room, his strides long and quick, his heart thudding in his ears as logic tried to catch up to him, but… He wasn't thinking. He simply was not thinking in that moment; if he had been, he might have kept himself firmly planted right where he was, might have simply let Merlin leave and this moment—this fleeting, heart-pounding moment that Arthur didn't actually _understand_—pass. And, _well…_

"Sire?" Merlin said, tentative as he turned around to face Arthur.

Arthur shook his head, swallowed. "Do you feel it?" He murmured, the look he gave Merlin meaningful.

Merlin shifted, scratched his neck, before nodding. "Yeah."

"What—"

"I don't know." Merlin breathed, interrupting what they both seemed to know Arthur was going to ask. "But… I might have an idea." He said shyly, casting his eyes downwards before back over to Arthur.

Before Arthur could say another word—before another word or thought or feeling could even come to him—Merlin took a step away from the door and towards him, started leaning in slowly, carefully, angling his head so Arthur, his heart still running in his chest, knew _exactly_ what his idea was, what he was going to do, and oh God, was he so looking forward to—

Merlin stopped, however, just in front of Arthur, his breath flitting across his waiting, _wanting_, disappointed lips. He let out a breath, shook his head.

"I'm sorry…" Merlin mumbled, not moving away from Arthur. "I shouldn't—_we_ shouldn't—I'm sure _you_ don't—"

"Merlin…" Arthur interrupted, his voice soft yet sharp. "Shut up…" he shook his own head, almost pleading in his tone in a way he never would be with anyone other than Merlin. "And—" he let out a breathy sort of laugh, light and nervous in his own sort of way, before he pressed forward, closed the distance without another word, his eyes slipping closed as he caught Merlin's lips.

One of his hands came up to grab Merlin by the back of the neck to tug him forward, digging under his neckerchief as he did so, and something ignited between the two of them—a fire that made Arthur let out something of a whimper as Merlin pressed against him, moaning into the kiss as his own hands came up to one side of Arthur's face, and the other against the front of his chest, his hands warm and careful where he left them.

Arthur almost wanted to chuckle against Merlin's mouth—the moment was so light and _perfect_—but instead he sighed, the one kiss melting into many, all slow and sweet, and leaving Arthur craving another and another and _another, _until Merlin slowly tugged back, looking dazed and _pleased_ in a way that Arthur would need to remember to be smug about later on.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow, slightly out of breath as Merlin's hands dropped from where he had them, though Arthur's hand stayed firmly planted on the back of Merlin's neck, playing with the hair there absently as he waited for Merlin to break the silence he had created of their kiss.

"I could go…" Merlin said at last, quiet and bashful and almost afraid, his eyes losing themselves to something quite beyond Arthur.

"Or you could _stay."_ Arthur suggested softly.

Merlin's eyes snapped back to Arthur's, and Arthur could see a spark of hope there, just beyond the fear, a silent question hanging in the air between them just before Arthur leaned back in to kiss him again, trying to be reassuring in the way he did so.

"Or I could stay." Merlin agreed when Arthur pulled back, smiling softly.

"I think that might work." Arthur murmured, nodding as Merlin kissed him once again, guiding him away from the door and towards the bed just as slowly as he was kissing him, taking his time, almost agonizingly so—but Arthur couldn't care, couldn't rush anything right now—there was just... something in the air, he supposed.

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End file.
